


Triple Agent Who Came in from the Cold I, The: Parts 1 thru 4

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-07-10
Updated: 2001-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-20 07:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11331618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: This is a world where John Doggett does not yet exist. Post-Requiem. Post-colonization. Yes, yet another cabin fic. Apologies to those who have had enough of such tried and true plot devices. *grin*





	Triple Agent Who Came in from the Cold I, The: Parts 1 thru 4

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

The Triple Agent Who Came in from the Cold - Book 1 By J Morningstar

The Triple Agent Who Came in from the Cold - Book 1  
By: J Morningstar  
Feedback: Please   
Category: Sk-Sc-K  
Rating: NC-17 eventually  
Summary: This is a world where John Doggett does not yet exist. Post-Requiem. Post-colonization. Yes, yet another cabin fic. Apologies to those who have had enough of such tried and true plot devices. *grin*  
Comments: I fell in love with the Great Smokies on a visit to Ashville NC 8 years ago. I have dreamed of the area ever since. For those of you who may be lucky enough to live in that part of the world, please know that if my descriptions of the area aren't realistic, they are, at least, true to the way I dream them.  
Further: If my descriptions of the practices and rituals of the Orthodox Russian Church are not accurate, I apologize in advance. I certainly mean no disrespect.  
I have been inspired by the amazing Skinner-Krycek and Skinner-Scully fiction that many of you share so freely with us.   
Thanks to my Beta Judi. You are the best!  
This is my first attempt at slash and only my second attempt at fan fiction. Please be gentle.

* * *

The Triple Agent Who Came in from the Cold - Book 1  
By: J Morningstar  
Feedback: Please 

^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

Part 1

I know not with what weapons World War III will be  
fought, but World War IV will be fought  
with sticks and stones.   
                ~ Albert Einstein 

From the cabin porch, he watched the dark clouds roll in from the west. An early snow, he thought, shivering slightly. When the storm passed, he would track a deer through the pristine white. A venison steak would make a welcome addition to his diet. Tonight, he would close off the two back rooms, and after supper, he would curl up in front of the fire and think over his plans. In the spring, he promised himself, he would find out what had happened to the rest of the world. 

Some days, the promise of spring was the only thing that kept him going. 

He has always considered himself a solitary soul, alone in the world. But in the two months since he'd been here, he learned what real aloneness meant. He longed for the sight of another human face, yearned to hear a voice other than his own. It was a startling realization for a man who had considered himself above the human emotions of need and want, emotions that could imprison a person who wasn't careful. 

When he'd first arrived here, exhausted and hungry, his focus had been on regaining his strength and securing his mountain hideaway. But as the days turned into weeks, he began to wonder if being the last soul alive on planet earth was worth the effort he had put into surviving, into journeying here to this remote outpost deep in the Appalachian high country. When the utter and complete aloneness and the lack of hope that anything would ever change threatened to overwhelm him, he found himself hiking the steep paths around his little fortress, or turning to the low-roofed barn to commune with his animals. He had a tendency to brood, and melancholy was as much a part of his natural heritage as it was an intrinsic element of his temperament. Before the invasion and the plague, the day-to-day struggle to survive kept his demons at bay. But here in the solitude of these ancient mountains, dark thoughts and a multitude of regrets prayed on his peace of mind. 

It was a dark and drizzly morning when he first made the promise to himself -- the promise to hold on till spring. He had awakened with a bruising hangover after spending the previous evening contemplating the taste of a 9mm bullet while downing several glasses of vodka. As the events of the night before came rushing back, he acknowledged how close he had come to ending it all, and felt real fear. So he had made an oath to himself. When the frost broke and the winter snows melted, he would hike out of these mountains, and find out how much, if anything, was left of the human race. And then, if there were some spark of humanity left, he would find a way to help rebuild civilization. It was the least of what he owed.

The promise of spring was still months away as he took one last look at the threatening sky, then turned to enter the cabin, ready to hunker down and ride out the storm. But a movement across the valley caught his eye, and he froze, his gaze searching back and forth across the wooded hillside. There it was again, and this time he was able to focus on a purposeful movement between the trees. He mouth fell open in shock as he realized he was watching two people hiking down the side of the mountain. His absolute delight at discovering that he was not alone died a quick and necessary death as he understood that these two could be enemies. 

In fact, it was more than likely that these two were exactly that; assassins come to hunt him down. He had no doubt that his continued survival would be a bitter defeat to some in spite all that had happened. 

The impulse towards life that had been fading in his lonely solitude grew strong with renewed purpose as he studied the two intruders, one tall and solid, the other small and nimble. He quickly gathered what he needed to repel an assault, then settled into his lookout. As he watched, the figures stopped to consult a paper, probably a map. His eyes narrowed as he considered who else might know of the existence of this place. Suddenly one pointed directly at him. He crouched down instinctively, even though he knew there was no way the intruders could see him. The cabin and its out-buildings had been cleverly designed to blend into the surrounding environment. Early on, he had viewed this piece of ground from every angle, in every light. He knew it was well camouflaged. He himself had nearly stumbled past it when he first arrived here at the height of summer, despite the GPS readout that told him exactly where it was. 

The man forced himself to relax, allowing years of training to take over. During the long afternoon, he watched as the intruders struggled through thick underbrush, forded icy mountains streams and stumbled across treacherous outcroppings of loose stone. Snow had begun to fall during the passing hours, but the man barely noticed. He had dressed in cold weather gear, he hands and feet cozy and warm, most of his face hidden behind a ski mask. 

As the sun began to set, he started to fidget. It was long past the time he expected them to arrive in his little clearing. Finally he decided to take the offensive. Carefully, stealthily, he moved down the mountainside, pausing frequently to capture any sight or sound of his pray. 

And there, at the edge of a highland meadow he saw them. The large intruder lay prone, the smaller one hovered next to him, shaking the fallen one's shoulders, talking to him. The man crouched down in the underbrush, trying to hear what was spoken. Suddenly, the kneeling intruder pulled his hood back, and the man gasped out loud. For this intruder had a head of auburn-colored hair. And when the intruder looked heavenward, as if beseeching God himself, that man could see intense blue eyes and porcelain skin. 

The man dropped to his seat, too shocked to maintain his stance. Dana Scully was here, on his mountain. And she wasn't alone. The thought gave him pause for one moment, and then he was on his feet. 

Damn the risk. It would be good to gaze upon the face of another. 

**********************

She looked up at his approached, but didn't flinch. Her gaze was wide and unfocused, and she seemed unsurprised at his sudden appearance. He recognized the look of exhaustion she wore, he seen it in his own reflection more than once. He looked down at the man lying before him and swore softly. Of all the people she could have dragged to this mountain hideaway, she had to bring Walter Skinner. The thought that the two of them had somehow survived and were traveling together was both intriguing and disturbing. He pushed those thoughts aside for a time when he could peruse them at length. The AD was in bad shape and needed attention now. His lips were blue and he shook uncontrollably. 

Scully snapped out of her stupor to speak. "He carried me across the river. He's going to die if we don't get him warm."

The man gazed at her intently, then nodded. "I'll be back," he said.

A half hour later he returned, leading a packhorse which pulled a travois. Between them, Scully and the man rolled Skinner onto the travois. Then the man turned and lifted Scully onto the horse's back. Behind the ski mask, the man's eyes widened in surprise. The red head was clearly pregnant. He pushed aside the questions that he wanted to ask, and concentrated shepherding his flock to the warmth and safety of the cabin. 

In the small clearing in front of the cabin's porch, the man coaxed a shot of whiskey down Skinner's throat. It roused him enough so that Scully and the man could lead him into the cabin. He left the two of them in front the fire while he tended to his horse. He returned to find Scully, rosy from exertion, struggling to rid an unconscious Skinner of his sodden jeans. He quickly doffed his outerwear and joined her, looking up when heard her gasp.

"It's you." she accused, her laced with shock and anger. 

The man smirked. Scully, it seemed, was quickly reviving from her fugue state. From beneath thick dark lashes, deep green eyes twinkled back at her. "Alex Krycek, ma'am. At your service."

*********************

Part 2

Maybe this world is another planet's Hell.   
       ~ Aldous Huxley 

She didn't speak again as she turned her attention back to Skinner. He wanted to question her, ask her how they this hideaway, anything at all, just to hear the sound of her voice, but the sad and defeated look in her eyes alarmed him. He feared she was at the end of her endurance. So he swallowed his questions and helped her remove Skinner's clothing. Once the big man was naked, they turned him from side to side, drying his skin roughly with towels to bring warmth and blood flow to the cold and mottled flesh. 

Alex chuckled under his breath. She looked at him sharply, and in response he raked his glance over Skinner's naked body and explained. "I guess I didn't realize that Skinner was such a stud." His grin was wry as he glanced pointedly at her belly and remarked, "But I guess you already knew that." 

He ignored her cold and steady look and wrapped the big man in a thick and fluffy down comforter. Satisfied that Skinner was as warm and cozy as possible in the circumstances, he turned his attention back to Scully. She too needed to get warm and dry. 

When he looked up to find her pointing a gun on him, he began to laugh. She narrowed her eyes, and this made him laugh even harder. Finally he sank to the hearth, his good arm holding his belly. 

"You think you have something to laugh about, Krycek?"

He wiped his eyes as his laughter wore itself out. When he looked at her his gaze held humor and admiration. "Yeah Scully, I'm laughing at you. You know you won't kill me in cold blood. So what are you going to do?" He started to laugh again. "Arrest me?" 

She closed her eyes, and let her arm fall. He was right, and she hated that. The world they had known was gone. Then she remembered all the reasons she hated this man, and it was all she could do to keep from throwing the gun at his arrogant head.

His look was gentle as he approached her and took the gun from her grasp. He laid it on the entry table, then turned to lead her towards the rear of the cabin. "Come on Scully," he coaxed. "You'll freeze in these wet clothes. You'll find something dry in the back bedroom. The sun earlier today heated the water in the solar collector. Should be enough for a warm shower or two." 

She turned back to look at Skinner, clearly concerned for her boss and friend. Alex read her look and reassured her. "I'll keep an eye on him." When she hesitated he argued, "You'll be no good to him if you get sick." The gaze she leveled on him before leaving the room was full of warning. He returned it calmly, without rancor, and this somehow reassured her.

In the small kitchen area, he heated water for tea, keeping an eye on Skinner from across the breakfast bar. For Scully, he heated a more substantial meal of leftover stewed rabbit with wild onions. 

When she returned, clean and warm, dressed in a sweats with thick fuzzy socks on her feet, she found him propping Skinner up, trying to get hot tea down his throat. 

"Help me out here, will ya? This is hard to do with one hand." When she didn't move he looked up and found her staring at him. It wasn't hard to read her expression. She was trying to reconcile the Krycek she knew, who had beaten and killed her boss, with the Krycek who now was doing his best to keep that same man alive. "Scully? Don't try to figure it all out right now, Okay? Let's take care of Skinner first."

She joined him on the floor and if she wondered at the tenderness with which Krycek held the big man, she kept it to herself. She lifted the cup to Skinner's lips, and spoke to him gently, urging him to drink. The AD opened his eyes and stared at her blankly. But he was roused enough to swallow. Between them, they managed to empty half the mug, most of it down Skinner's throat. 

Scully's open-mouthed yawn seemed to catch her by surprise. Alex urged her onto the sofa, where she curled up. He brought her a bowl of the stew and water to drink. Despite the cold, he knew how quickly one could become dehydrated. He watched over her as she picked suspiciously at the stew, and then was amazed at the speed with which she devoured it once she decided it was edible. Then he remembered - she's eating for two now. A dozen questions died stillborn on his tongue. Later, there would be time enough for explanations. 

He found bedding for the two of them, and closed off the back of the cabin. He handed her a pillow and comforter, but didn't watch as she settled into the depths of the sofa. He pulled an armchair and ottoman next to the sofa, cocooned himself in a nest of blankets. 

He should sleep. But he couldn't. He drank in the sight of Dana Scully and Walter Skinner. He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter who was here, that any human being would trigger the same response. But the truth was, other than maybe Mulder himself; he couldn't have asked for anything more than these two. 

A hundred thousand invisible threads bound them together. They should have been just another assignment he carried out - orders to be followed, like dozens of others before and since. But somehow, the three of them, Scully, Skinner, and yes, even Mulder, left an indelible impression on his life. It was more than the knowledge that they stood for everything he was fighting for. They were - unforgettable. He had found himself drawn to them time and again, even though it was dangerous. Each encounter, every word, every dream or nightmare, every single thought of them - spun another silken link amongst them. 

***********************

She wasn't sure what woke her, but awareness returned quickly as she remembered where she was. She rose to check on Skinner, only to find their host was already with the man. 

"Krycek! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Alex grinned at the agent unrepentantly. Scully had caught him in the act of disrobing. He was pleased to see the sharp look had returned to her eyes, and grinned impudently. "You're boyfriend here on the verge of checking out from hypothermia. Thought I'd try to save him, though I'll be damned if I know why."

She realized that the rattling noise that woke her was the appalling sound of Skinner's teeth chattering. 

Alex continued to shed clothing until he stood naked and unashamed before her. He threw her a challenging glance, and then slipped under the blankets with Skinner, pressing his warm body to the man's chilled flesh. He looked up at Scully while he rubbed the man's chest and arms with his single hand. His voice was exasperated. "Are you going to join us? Or do you plan on letting him freeze to death." He realized that she was hesitant to strip in front of him. So he closed his eyes. After a long moment, he heard the rustle of falling clothes, and felt her slide under the blankets on Skinner's other side. 

"Krycek." Her voice was a soft whisper, and he opened his eyes, to find Scully's head pillowed against Skinner other shoulder, their faces just inches apart. She had curved her swollen body against Skinner's bulk, and her hand hesitantly stroked the man's chest.

"What?" he asked. 

"Why are you doing this?" 

If she hoped for some kind of satisfaction, she bound for disappointment. His grin was wicked as he explained. "Maybe I've always had a secret wish to get naked with the two of you." 

But Scully refused to bite at the red herring he tossed her. "You could have killed us both. You didn't even have to kill us. You could have just left us to die on the side of the mountain."

For long moments he was quiet, and when she finally looked over at him, he shrugged and with the movement, a flash of gold on his chest glittered in the firelight. Without thinking she reached out to touch it, lifting it up and leaning closer to examine it.

"It's a cross." She said, looking at Krycek, surprised and perplexed. "There's something odd about it." 

"You only think it's odd because it's not your typical, boring Catholic cross." He rejoined. He shifted, pulling the chain over his head and handing it to her. "It's Byzantine. Russian Orthodox." He pointed out the various features as she held it up to the light. "The top bar represents the sign places over Christ's head. The middle bar, of course, is the one they nailed his arms to. And the bottom one is the footrest that supported his body." 

Scully looked at him, wide-eyed. "My Grandmother gave it to me." He said defensively. "What's the matter Scully. Did you think I was hatched."

"No. No. I just didn't think..." She swallowed, the looked at him directly. "I didn't know you believed."

He grinned at her then, and she was startled to realize it didn't annoy her. "There aren't any atheists in foxholes Scully. Didn't your father teach you that?" 

She handed it back to him, and he spoke, almost to himself. "I remember going to her house on feast days. The Nativity of the Theotokos in the fall. The Nativity of Our Lord - what you Westerners call "Christmas. We would eat until we were stuffed. She would pull down her icons, and tell us the Nativity story. One year she gave me this cross. To keep her Alexei safe, she said."

"Theotokos? God-bearer?"

"Yes. Theotokos is Mary, the Mother of God. We Russians reverie our Mothers, Scully. All mothers." He slanted a grin at her. "Maybe that's why I pulled you off the mountain and brought you here. Motherhood." 

She pulled a face at him. "That might be believable if I didn't know how surprised you were when you lifted me on the horse."

He smiled then, and they were both quiet. At length, he asked the question she knew was coming. "So, what's the story then, behind..." he nodded toward her rounded abdomen.

She looked at him carefully, and replied. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet." 

He nodded. This was something he understood. He had enough secrets of his own that would never see the light of day. He closed his eyes and settled into the warmth at Skinner's side.

Skinner's trembling had subsided, and his flesh began to feel warm against hers. Scully continued to stroke his chest, enjoying the rough fur and sculpted muscles. She felt uneasy with the thoughts that bubbled up; Krycek was right; Skinner had an remarkable physique. She remembered the first time she'd seen him in his shirt sleeves. The light from the window highlighted his broad shoulders and narrow waist, and her breath had caught in her throat. She was too smart to get caught up in an office infatuation, so she had diligently suppressed her attraction to the AD. But his appeal was hard to completely discount, and it had, over the years, caught her by surprise more than once. Sometimes all it took to set her pulse racing was the sight of him striding down the corridor, his physique and his confidence dwarfing every other man. Other times, it was the look of admiration in his eyes as he handed her back a report and told her the work was good. That single but compelling look could lift her spirits for the rest of the day.

She had come to expect from him a stability that she could never get from Mulder. And when it all came down, and it was clear that nothing they could do could halt the chain of events that was unfolding, he was there to pull her to safety. For the past several weeks, he'd kept her alive. Forcing her to go on when she wanted to fall to the ground. He was the only thing real in a world that no longer made sense. What if he died? 

At her troubled murmur Alex opened his eyes to look at her, "He's going to be alright Scully." She didn't look comforted, so he tried another tact. "Hell Scully, if I couldn't kill him, a little cold water won't." He grabbed her hand and stilled it, cradling their fingers together in the hollow over Skinner's heart. His voice grumbled at her across Skinner's chest. "He's a Marine, damn it." After a long moment, his voice sleepy, he told her to go to sleep. 

And she did.

**********************

He surfaced gradually, his brain foggy as he fought through layer upon layer of weariness. He slowly became aware that he was warm, almost too warm, and he wondered if this was what death was like. The effort to think was too costly, so he let himself float, experiencing sensations as they came to him, not pushing himself to comprehend. 

He was on his side, and he twitched slightly, surprised to find that he was not alone. There was a small body next to his, and they were both naked. As his brain sluggishly processed information, he came to understand that the softness under his hand was a woman's breast. A perfect breast that arched into the palm of his hand. Surely he was dead, and he had somehow stumbled into heaven, in spite of everything. He suddenly ached to know who she was, this celestial being who had spooned herself into the curve of his body, but his stubborn eyelids were too heavy and refused to open. 

Then he felt an arm tighten around him from behind. Two women at once? A foolish grin tumbled across his face. Maybe, just maybe, heaven was a place where fantasies were fulfilled. The body behind him shifted closer, and then he felt it, the length of a semi-erect penis along his backside. Thirty years fell away and he was back in 'Nam, about to be initiated into the enticing and seductive pleasure of anal sex. Only this time, he was no virgin. He knew the burning rush of pleasure that came from being filled, and longed to feel it again. He arched his back, pushing his ass against the man behind him, silently urging him on. A sleepy and tantalizingly familiar voice asked, "You awake?" He thought that he might have grunted in reply. A hand laid itself against his forehead, and the voice whispered across his ear, making him shiver. "No fever, thank god." The arm pull him close, and Skinner growled low in his throat as he realized *his* penis was hard and weeping and pressing against the pert, feminine bottom curled in front of him. This was a heaven his conscious mind would never allow him to envision, a heaven he never knew he wanted. He felt lips press along his neck. Whispered words rippled along his skin. "Go back to sleep. You need to rest." Clever fingertips slid along his arm, then long fingers twined with his own. He wanted to protest - he didn't want to sleep. He ached bury himself in the body before him, and yearned to be filled by the body behind him. But sleep pulled at him, dragging him under. He sighed mournfully and slipped softly in to slumber.

************************************

=====  
Julie M  
The Doggett Files  
http://www.menofx.iwarp.com/doggettfiles

 

* * *

 

The Triple Agent Who Came in from the Cold - Book 1: Part 3  
By: J Morningstar  
Feedback: Please   
Category: Sk-Sc-K  
Rating: NC-17 eventually  
Summary: This is a world where John Doggett does not yet exist.   
Post-Requiem. Post-colonization.   
Thanks to the wonderful alice ttlg for archiving my story and for maintaining the superlative Down in the Basement web site.   
Much gratitude to the fabulous Judi for her on-going encouragement and friendship and her kind and generous beta. 

* * *

Part 3

"Melancholy men, of all others, are the most witty."  
                                ~ Aristotle

Krycek awoke first. He dressed hastily, and then stoked the fire. In the kitchen, he built another small fire in the wood stove, and filled a kettle of water to heat. He saw Scully stir, and turned his back, busying himself at the stove to give her ample time to dress. He heard the click of the bathroom door, and moved back to check Skinner. He laid his hand against the AD's forehead, frowning when he found the skin hot and dry to his touch. 

He looked up as Scully returned with a freshly scrubbed face and neatly brushed hair. "He's burning up." Wordlessly, she helped Krycek gather tepid water and washrags, and bathed the AD in an attempt to lower his temperature. She watched as Krycek dissolved aspirin in water and helped him as he struggled to get it down the older man's throat. Then they bathed him again. 

Finally, he seemed cooler. Alex told Scully he needed to see to the animals. She looked at him blankly, and then nodded her head. 

The storm had blown itself out overnight, but he still had to wade through waist-high snowdrifts. He returned an hour later with a pail of warm milk. Dana still sat on the floor next to Skinner and Alex wondered if she had moved at all in the time he'd been gone. He checked Skinner and found him cool, his sleep restful. He bullied her into the kitchen and fed her oatmeal and tea, both liberally laced with fresh strained milk. 

When she finally looked up at him, he carefully set his spoon down, giving her his full attention. "What are you doing here Krycek? This is Mulder's place."

He snorted, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Is that what Mulder told you?"

"He left me directions on how to get here should something ever happen."

"Yeah? And he told you this was his place?"

"He didn't have to tell me. Of course this is Mulder's place."

"Correction, Scully. This is our place. Mulder's and mine. You don't really think Mulder would come up with something like this, do you? Hell, he wanted to go greet the aliens, chase the truth, meet it head on. Not hide from them."

She looked at him speculatively, weighing his words,. What he said made sense. But she could not, would not concede every point without demure.

She leaned forward into his space, and pronounced her words carefully. "Mulder hated you Krycek. Everyone knows that. And yet, here you are, trying to tell me the two of you, what? Own property together?" 

He crossed his arms across his chest and spoke levelly. "Whether you believe it or not Scully, it's true."

"Mulder never told me that he owned land in these mountains."

He favored her with an incredulous look. "First of all, do you really believe that Mulder shared all his secrets with you?" He ignored her indignant huff. "And secondly, the land belonged to me, not Mulder."

She arched a delicate eyebrow. "You're not exactly the type to own a mountain retreat, Krycek."

He grinned cheekily "I took it as payment for a debt." 

"Really?" Learning about what types of things Krycek was willing to do for money was a topic she did not want to explore further. So she challenged instead about his involvement with her partner. "Exactly when did you and Mulder plan this hide away?"

His smile was wicked as he answered her. "Now Scully. That would be kissing and telling. And frankly, I don't think you really want to know."

She flushed slightly at the innuendo, and pinned him with an incredulous gaze. 

He stared back. 

She tipped her head and raised a brow in one the patented Scully looks.

He suppressed the urge to cross himself. 

Then he realized why he felt indignant and started to chuckle. He was mad Scully didn't believe him. What the hell had he expected? This was Scully. In order to maintain his cover within the Consortium, he had taught her to believe him capable of all manner of vice and deceit. Why would she believe him now?

He shook his head, smiled ruefully to himself, then settled back and began his story. "One night when we were together, we got talking about the invasion. Mulder." He shook his head. "Jesus. He treated it like it was some kind of lark. Something to look forward to, not something to fear." His expression grew grim. "I knew better. I knew their plans. I knew what they were capable of." He looked up at Scully then. "Then, of course, the incident on the bridge happened. You were there." He nodded at her. "You knew what it meant. That's when Mulder started to worry, seriously. Not for himself. But for those he cared about. So we started making serious plans."

"I told Mulder about this piece of land I owned. So far back in the hills of the Great Smokies - even the park rangers forgot that it was private property. We talked of the idea of building a safe house. A place to lay low while the dust settled - with everything needed to rebuild once the gray bastards were all dead or gone back to where they came from."

Scully had been listening carefully, ready to give him the benefit of the doubt, interrogated him as though he were a credible source of information. "How could you be sure that they'd all be dead or gone?"

"We knew the pathogen they planned to release when the rest of them landed actually contained a component deadly to gray reticulums." He grinned gleefully and reminded Scully of a boy pulling the wings of insects.

Scully shook her head. "This doesn't make sense. Mulder hated you. He never saw you that he didn't attack you." 

Krycek snorted. "Please Scully, don't you think I'm well aware of the inconsistencies of Mulder's behavior? It was as if this part of our --relationship, if that's what you'd call it -- was closed off from everything else that ever happened between us. When we met to talk about this place, he didn't hit first and ask questions later." He shook his head. "Mulder's ability to compartmentalize amazed even me. And I'm a pro at it."

He signed heavily. "The thing is, it's all screwed up. He didn't get it right."

"What do you mean?" Scully asked.

"He never finished the plans, even though he had plenty of time. There isn't anywhere near the food stuffs here that we decided on. And, there was supposed to be a hydro generator that we could hook up at the river. And a sawmill. Tons of stuff that was supposed to make this place completely self-sufficient. Yet, here I am in the dark every damn night." Krycek's mouth twisted with disgust. "But, of course, he remembers the freaking hoop."

At her puzzled expression, he nodded his head to the other side of the cabin. She turned, and then she saw it. And for the first time in weeks, a smile spread across her face. Because against the wall, away from the windows and above an empty aquarium, Mulder had installed a basketball hoop. 

******

Over the next few days Skinner consumed their attention and energy. A cold had settled in his chest, and that, accompanied by exhaustion and poor nutrition left him gravely ill. They pulled the daybed in front of the fireplace and installed the AD there. It was no easy task for a pregnant woman and a one-armed man to lift a 230-pound man onto a bed without his help, but they managed. 

Once they had settled Skinner, Krycek went out hiking with a knife and a basket. He returned with some small twigs and a collection of tiny stones. The twigs he placed in a kettle of water on the stove, and as the water warmed, the smell of camphor filled the cabin. Once the mixture was hot, the two of them made a blanket tent over Skinner's head and placed steaming pot beneath it. They were both relieved when the menthol-like steam helped break up the congestion in the big man's chest. 

Scully determined a course of care, and Krycek helped her whenever possible. He helped bath Skinner when his fever soared and held him propped against his chest while Scully poured fluids down his throat. Krycek helped Scully turn the big man on his side, and pounded his back to help loosen the poisonous sputum that settled in his lungs. He did it without complaint; without being asked, expertly anticipating her wants and needs and wishes. And if he turned his head and looked ill while Skinner hacked up thick, green mucous, Scully said nothing.

In return for that kindness, Krycek made sure that Scully took nourishment, cajoled her into using the solar-heated shower, and bullied her into taking frequent naps. He fixed a bed for her on the sofa where she curled up while took his turn caring for Skinner.

For Krycek, this task was no chore; rather, it was a revelation. Because Skinner, in his feverish delirium, often spoke. For years, the man had been a mystery wrapped in a riddle. His honor and integrity were not unlike Mulder's, but Skinner had neither Mulder's hysterical edge nor his showboating tendencies. His stoicism made Krycek ache to peel away the layers and lay him bare. Despite Mulder's training and talent as a profiler, the truth was that Krycek had his own amazing gift for reading people. Yet Walter Skinner continued to elude him. And because he was such a challenge for Krycek to pigeonhole, he found himself intrigued by the man; fascinated in spite of himself. It had been that way since the first time he saw the man striding down a hall in the Hoover building all those years ago.

Skinner should have been nothing more than a notch on his gun barrel. But Krycek found himself studying the man. Surveilling him on his own time. And each piece that was revealed was a bit to be treasured. 

Now, being this close to the man, and hearing his secrets spill forth without filter, Krycek was like a kid with the keys to a candy store. 

He grinned when Skinner mentioned Agents Mulder or Scully, his voice by turns exasperated, pleading, and sometimes seductive. 

He stared straight ahead, his jaw tight as Skinner relived his time in-country. His grief at losing friends, his horror at awakening in a body bag, lying amongst the dead. Krycek knew what it was like to be buried alive. And when Skinner spoke of the heat, the rain, and his fear, Krycek could taste and smell and feel it all. 

But it wasn't until he heard his own name muttered from those lips that he actually became ill. 

Skinner had been quiet for hours. "Krycek." The voice was a command he didn't refuse, and Krycek was next to him in an instant. At first Alex thought Skinner had regained consciousness, but as he hovered over him, he saw that the AD's eyes were glazed and unfocused. Alex reached out to soothe the man, running his hand from his shoulder down his arm. 

"No damn it. I won't let you have him too. You stay away from him you black-lunged bastard."

Alex swallowed. Suddenly Skinner reached up and grabbed a shoulder with each hand. He was looking right into Krycek eyes when he muttered, "Don't worry, Agent Krycek. I won't let him get his claws into you." Then his eyes fluttered shut and his hands released their hold on Krycek. 

For long moments he stared at the man he had once taken to the brink of death and pulled back. His breath came in short gasps and a strange and scary kind of pain had taken up residence in his gut. 

He knew about Skinner. Knew how he had looked out for his fellow Marines in Viet Nam, even those who were senior to him in rank or age. And at the Bureau, he looked out for his agents, kept them safe, ran interference, and generally played the role of protective big brother. 

He had never imagined that Skinner had placed him in that same category as Mulder or Scully. Skinner had cared about him, watched out for him, tried to protect him. As though he, Krycek, actually belonged. 

In that moment, Alex Krycek knew that there was something he regretted even more than his lost arm. 

In the next instant he was on his feet, pulling on his outerwear and shaking Scully awake. "Keep an eye on him, will you? I need some fresh air." And before she could rub the sleep from her eyes or formulate a response, he was gone.

He stumbled from the cabin, heedless in his flight and his desire to put as much space as possible between himself and his torment. He found himself on the rocky shore of the icy mountain stream that ran not far from the cabin. He followed its path along the mountainside, until he finally fell to his knees, panting, along the shore of a pool of water. He knew it was no use. He could travel to the far side of the world and not escape this one. This was one memory that he could not outrun, shoot dead, or fuck from his consciousness.

He curled into himself, resting his head on his knees, and slowly rocked - tears of grief and regret wetting his face. 

****************** 

Hours later, when the cold and hunger forced him back to the cabin, he found a happy Scully. Propped against a heap of pillows and sipping soup from a mug was a conscious Skinner.

She looked up at Alex, tears of joy brimming in her eyes, her face beaming. They had done it. Once again AD Skinner had cheated death.

His lips curved into an answering smile as he looked at Scully. He let his gaze travel to Skinner, and watched as the man turned to see who Scully was smiling at, and flinched as he saw that face freeze in an expression perfect and resolute denial. 

"Son of a bitch!" Skinner tried to get up, and spilled the soup over Scully and himself. "I'll kill that bastard."

Scully was on her feet, pressing him back against the cushions. "Skinner! Stop it! Stop!"

Skinner tore his gaze from Krycek and stared up at Scully, his face hard, his eyes flashing. "What the hell is he doing here?" 

"This is his cabin, his and Mulder's. He saved you, he saved us both. He could have left us to die, but he didn't." He growled angrily and Scully spoke to him earnestly. "Walter! Whatever happened in the past, you have to put it aside." She stroked a soft hand down the side of his face, cupping his cheek. She stared into his eyes, willing him to understand. "None of the old rules apply Walter. We have to forgive what we can't forget. And forget what we can't forgive."

His hand clutched at hers, then flung it away. "Can you honestly say that's what you've done Scully? Forgiven him? Forgotten everything he's done?" 

She looked over her shoulder at where Alex stood. Although the expression on his face was carefully blank, she could tell from the stiff way he held himself that he didn't take his place here for granted. With sudden insight, she realized that he expected them to ask him to leave. And she knew that he would, without demure. Her face softened, and while she replied to Skinner, it was Krycek she looked at when she spoke. "Yes, Walter. That's exactly what I've done. The three of us - if we have any hope of surviving - need to find a way to live together."

Walter stared at Krycek, his face hard and unforgiving. Then he turned his gaze to stare into the fire. 

Scully looked at Krycek and told him without words to be patient. 

Krycek relaxed slightly and nodded his head. He could be patient. It was something at which he excelled.

*****************

In the days that followed, Skinner grew stronger. The little household revolved around the daybed in front of the fireplace. Scully grew more animated and Alex was grateful for that. Caring for the conscious and grumbling Skinner was obviously good for her - it brought her back from that dark place where she had spent so much of her time in those first weeks here on the mountain. 

After his initial anger, Skinner dealt with Krycek by ignoring him whenever possible. At times, Krycek felt as though he had become invisible. He was surprised at how much Skinner's attitude stung.

Scully did her best to soften the big man. She told him more than once of their rescue from certain death on the side of the mountain. She shared how Krycek had cared for both of them, watching over Skinner while Scully slept. Forcing liquids down his throat. Hiking halfway down the mountain to gather the twigs of a camphor tree. And how Krycek had kept her fed and rested so she could care for Skinner.

She did not tell him, however, about that first night in the cabin when she and Krycek treated Skinner's hypothermia. There were some things, she reckoned, that were better left unsaid. 

As he grew stronger, Skinner took more interest in their sanctuary. At first, Scully answered his questions as best she could. But then, she began to see his refusal to speak with Krycek directly as counter-productive, and declined to answer any further questions, telling him he could ask Krycek himself -if he wanted to know. 

Skinner groused, then pouted, but neither method budged Scully. She could, he realized, be as stubborn and implacable as he was. 

That night after supper, Skinner cleared his throat, and uncomfortably asked Krycek for a moment of his time. 

There was a flash of surprise in those green eyes before he carefully smoothed his expression and answered Skinner politely. 

And so the three of them gathered in front of the fire and reviewed their situation. Krycek shared the history of the cabin with Skinner, who frowned but did not voice his disbelief at the idea of Mulder collaborating with Krycek in such a way. Krycek also shared his concern over their supply of food and other necessities. 

Skinner sat up, his brow knit as he recalled something. "We passed a farm that might be a good place to scavenge." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "There were chickens there. We could see them when we skirted the place."

"Chickens?" Krycek exclaimed. He turned to Scully and grinned. "I've been dreaming of omelets. How far is it?" 

"We passed it the day before you found us." 

Krycek nodded. "I'll go then, and see what I can find. Take two of the horses and the travois. Scully, you stay here and keep an eye on Skinner." 

To his surprise, the other two vehemently protested. Skinner first, because he resented the implication that he couldn't care for himself. And then Scully, who was determined to go with Krycek. 

Then they both turned on Scully, filling the cabin with the sound of their arguments. It was too dangerous. She could get hurt. She could catch cold. She might fall. The list seemed endless. But Scully sat quiet and calm till they wore themselves out. And then explained her reasoning in such a way that both were silenced. 

"I have to get ready for this baby. I'll have to jerry-rig and make do with what I can find. The best chance I have of getting what I might need is if I go myself and look things over." She paused for effect. "Unless, Krycek, among your hidden talents is an expertise in labor, delivery, and the care of infants?" 

It was a rhetorical question, and she didn't expect a reply. Over her head the two men looked at each other. And for the first time since finding themselves sharing living quarters, their thoughts were in harmony. Without words they communicated their concern, their fear, and their surprise.

It was the first time Scully acknowledged that she was pregnant. 

End Part 3.

To be continued.

=====  
Julie M  
The Doggett Files  
http://www.menofx.iwarp.com/doggettfiles

 

* * *

 

The Triple Agent Who Came in from the Cold  
Book 1: Part 4  
By: J Morningstar  
Feedback: Please   
Warning: Het sex in this section. Don't worry - slash coming soon. :-)

* * *

When choosing between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before.   
~ Mae West 

The day came when the fear over the deepening winter won out over concern for Skinner's health. Scully and Krycek would journey west to see what they could scavenge from the abandoned homestead.

Scully spent the evening before they left nagging Skinner about his health, his diet, and his need for rest. He took her instructions meekly, knowing it arose from her fear and concern for him, and the knowledge that he had nearly died.

Krycek spent the time familiarizing Skinner with the outbuildings and chores. The men were coolly polite with one another, although they studied one another intently when they thought the other was not looking.

Krycek's scrutiny was laced with guilt. His newfound knowledge of Skinner's effort to keep him safe from the smoking bastard, however futile, filled him with the desire to make amends to the other man -- to acknowledge the man's deeds and gallantry. And maybe, somehow, ask for forgiveness. 

Skinner's examination of Krycek was more complex. Skinner's first impression of the naïve young Agent Krycek had been lost forever after the man had betrayed them all. To his mind, Krycek was all things despicable and loathsome, and every encounter with him since had only served to enforce his conviction. Until now. 

It vexed him that he could no longer categorize the man into the neat box he had created for him. It bothered him that Scully felt so comfortable with Alex. Her defense of him was almost incomprehensible to him. He wondered what had happened to cause such a change in their relationship while he was recovering from pneumonia. The actions she ascribed to Krycek didn't jibe with the image he had of the man. Of course, the man who had beaten him in the stairwell or killed him with a sweep of a stylus didn't jive with the young and earnest agent who had been placed under his command. 

The worst however, was his reaction to Krycek's delight at the thought of eggs being added to their diet. He turned to Scully and slanted that pirate smile of his and Skinner's breath had caught in his throat. In the years that he'd been so caught up with Krycek's shortcomings, he'd actually blocked out how appealing the man was. He was stunned by the sudden image of a warm and naked Krycek curled up behind him, his arm wrapped around him, his voice whispering something he couldn't make out. He tried to shake the picture from his mind and turned to look at Scully, and found himself floating in a vague and fleeting memory of her naked in his arms, her full breast cupped in his hand, his hard and dripping cock poised to enter her. 

The image of having sex with Scully was more disturbing to his peace of mind than the thought of fucking Krycek. Scully was - irreproachable. She was everything that was good and honest in his world, and he refused to think of her in mere human terms. She was a goddess on a pedestal he carefully fashioned for her. Some small part of his heart that still believed in Santa Claus and the hereafter was convinced that her pregnancy was of divine origin. The logical part of his brain acknowledged that she was with child, but would not consider how she became pregnant. He certainly would not allow himself to speculate on the identity of the father. It was hard enough to acknowledge her pregnancy.

So instead, he brooded over the inconsistencies of Krycek's behavior. Skinner was a man who liked things neat and orderly. He didn't like this new information he had about Krycek. It made him hard to pin down; that, and his undeniable sexual appeal tested Skinner's self-control.

For his part, Krycek was happy to have a few days out of the other man's company. Skinner's dark looks and uneven temper were beginning to wear on him. He needed time and space to sort through his own feelings. 

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They left at first light, a tiny caravan made up of three horses, a pregnant woman, and a triple agent. 

For Krycek, it was a novel experience. He was used to traveling alone -- traveling light, moving quickly. He was not used to having to watch out for someone else, and his solicitousness towards Scully's welfare troubled him. He wondered if he was growing soft. Then he grinned to himself. What the hell difference did it make anymore?

They broke often, sometimes when Scully's bladder called, other times when Krycek estimated their time on horseback had been long enough. Neither was used to riding, and he didn't want them so crippled by sore muscles when they reached the homestead that they couldn't retrieve what they were after. 

Several times he'd caught Scully lost in her own world. He had hoped by now that she would have emerged from the cocoon she had wrapped around herself. But the further they traveled from the cabin and Skinner, the more reticent she became.

But despite his concerns for his traveling companion, his spirits rose as they journeyed west. He'd been stuck close to the cabin for so long, that this bit of freedom was a thing to be cherished. He loved these ancient mountains, worn down over eons of time. There was a comfort in knowing that they had survived the invaders and the plague. He thought that maybe, just maybe, humankind could also survive sheltered in its ancient embrace.

It was late afternoon when they crested a hill from the top if which they could see the homestead Scully and Skinner had passed on their journey upcountry. Alex determined that they should make camp here, and survey the surrounding landscape for any signs of unfriendly activity. Morning would be soon enough to explore their plunder. 

A small gas burner yielded up hot water and both enjoyed a mug of tea while setting up camp. Scully was an automaton that did as she was bid without demure. Krycek frowned over her passiveness and hoped to hell Skinner was around when she finally broke. 

He watched the homestead for three hours without spying any sign of activity. He was convinced that they were alone in this valley, not just from his surveillance, but his gut feeling that he and Scully were the only human beings in this lonely valley. 

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Scully had prepared their tent, where he had sent her an hour ago. He checked the horses one last time, and then joined Scully. He found an empty sleeping bag, neatly unfolded, and slid his long legs into its shelter. As he settled down into a comfortable position, he realized that Scully had curled up in a small bundle, shaking with cold.

"Damn it, Scully! Are you trying to freeze to death?" With a few deft moves, he had unearthed her from her sleeping bag, despite her protests, and deposited her gently near the entrance of the tent. He then unzipped both bags, and unfolded each, then zipped together into one large bag. He slid down in and lifted one edge so Scully could slide into next to him. She turned her back to him and held herself stiffly away. He sighed, exasperated, then rolled onto his side and pulled her back against him. 

"Scully, you know I won't hurt you, right?"

She relaxed then, and nodded. "I know you won't hurt me." 

"Then why?" he asked. 

She shrugged, and murmured, "Conditioned response, I guess." 

He chuckled at that, and tugged a strand of her hair. 

"I'll guess I'll have to recondition you, won't I?" 

She snorted, joining in his mood, and replied. "You can try." 

He laughed outright at her indignant retort. He pulled her closer, curling his legs up beneath hers, happy that she seemed to be emerging from her funk. 

For that reason, and that alone, he leaned up over her to plant a companionable kiss on her check, to let her know how pleased he was with her. But in the dark of the tent, instead of kissing the neutral territory of her cheek, his lips fell on the soft white curve of her neck, just below her ear. 

From that, he might have recovered and pulled away, if it hadn't been for her reaction. She sighed, then tipped her head, exposing her neck, as though she were inviting further contact. 

So he kissed her again, this time trailing his lips along her neck, and then nibbling the dainty lobe of one white ear. Her response was instantaneous. She arched against him further, and lifted one arm up and behind her to pull his head closer. The sound of her breathless response, the feel of her rounded bottom against his groin, the smell and thought of Dana Scully in his arms was too much for him to resist. 

"Scully," he groaned. "We shouldn't..."

"Don't say anything," she breathed.

"Scully, are you sure..." 

But she cut him off. "Don't talk, please. Just do." 

And he did. 

Propping himself on his stump, he let his mouth and lips explore her neck and shoulder and ear, while his hand learned the curve of her breasts and abdomen. He wanted to taste her breasts, knead them and burrow his face between them. 

He urged her to turn onto her back, but she resisted, and in a flash he realized this was her way of abdicating responsibility for what was happening between them. As long as they weren't face to face, she could pretend she wasn't complicit. A brief arrow of anger rose in him, and he wanted to challenge her, but the hand she had twined in his hair slide down his body to cup his erection, and he surged forward into her palm, forgetting his anger, forgetting everything but his growing need.

He slid his hand under her layers of clothing and found the tip of one swollen breast. He teased the nipple back and forth, feeling it pearl against his fingertips. He worried it over and over till she writhed against him. Her breath came in short pants and she rocked her hips faster and faster till she suddenly arched, holding still for one long moment. The clever fingers at her breast stilled as she rode out the tiny climax he incited. 

"God!" she sobbed. "That's never happened to me before." 

He muttered into her neck, "We're not finished yet." He tugged at her sweat pants and long johns and she was helping him till her lower half was naked inside the sleeping bag. Pushing up her sweatshirt, his hand carefully explored the curve of her abdomen. The flesh over her pregnant belly was hard and firm. He'd never touched a pregnant woman before and his curious mind asked a dozen questions that his tongue refused to voice. Instead, he slid his hand lower till he found her curls. He longed to see them, to know their color, but contented himself with testing their spring and teasing the folds they hid. She pushed into his hand, groaning, "God it's been so long, so long since someone touched me there."

And in that instant he understood that the baby inside her was not the result of a natural conception. The consortium bastards had been using her, experimenting with her. A wave of rage and compassion rose up in him and he stilled his exploration, burying his face in her silky hair, rocking her gently. "Ah, Scully," he whispered, blinking back the moisture welling up in his eyes. As he held and comforted her, his erection began to fade. But Scully was unaware of his turmoil. She only knew she wanted to drown in the wave of sensation he stirred. She grew fretful at his inaction and writhed against him, whispering encouragement. She pulled his hand to the warmth between her legs and rocked her hips against him. His desire rose again and he promised himself that he would find a way to make up for all that she had lost. 

His lips trailed along her neck and he felt her shudder. He slid one long finger deep inside her and groaned as he felt her heat and her dampness. He pulled back and tugged the rest of her clothing off, while she pulled at his. When they were both naked he moved against her and shuddered as their flesh met. God she felt good. Soft and firm and ripe and sexy. He wanted to eat her up, feast on her bounty. Make her scream. Feel her come around his cock. 

He urged her to roll and lay face down, then he reached around to pad the sleeping bag around the swell of her tummy. Scully melted, trembling with anticipation. The skin on her neck and back was exquisitely sensitive, and she wanted to feel his hand touch her there. She folded one arm into a pillow for her head, the other curved into a support for her belly, lifting her slightly towards Krycek. 

With his fingers, he trailed a path along the length of her back. She shivered, then rocked her hips. With his lips, he learned the shape of her spine, from the back of her neck, to the curve of her bottom. 

He wanted to try something with her, something he would bet money no one had done to her before. 

He scrunched down beside her, kissing and licking the curves of her ass, flirting with the cleft between them. With his hand, he teased the lips of her cunt, then pushed one finger as far it would go into her. He fucked her with that finger, feeling her channel dampen and loosen. He added another finger and his own hips jerked as he heard her moan, smelled her arousal, and felt her tighten around him. 

He then twisted his hand, curving his fingers so they pressed down toward her pubic bone. He then stroked the front of her vagina, feeling carefully for the hidden treasure of a woman's body. His fingers stroked her again and again while his lips and mouth teased her bottom. He felt it then, a small knot of muscle. He rubbed harder and felt it swell. She gasped then and tried to pull away. He leaned over her, kissed her spine and reassured her. "Shhhh. It's ok. I know it feels strange right now, but it'll feel so good. I promise."

The whole time he kept stroking the knot of muscle in the front wall of her vagina and kissed and licked the sensitive skin of her spine and bottom. She stayed with him and finally she relaxed, moaning. Then she tightened again and her hips began to rock. He sped up his stroking and used his thumb to circle her clitoris. 

"Oh Alex. Please. I want to...Oh God." 

He knew what she wanted and he wanted it for her. He wanted her to come. Hard. "Come for me, Dana. Come for me now."

And suddenly she was crying out, and the muscles of her vagina clamped down on his fingers and a gush of warm fluid coated his hand. 

He rode out the wave with her and then slid up along her body and pulled her back into his arms. She seemed stunned, and he smiled to himself, liking the idea that he had taken Dana Katherine Scully to the stars and left her a speechless, boneless, trembling mess. He kissed her and stroked her and whispered nonsense in her ear. 

At length, she took a deep breath, and tipped her head so she could see him. Her look was direct, and he wondered what she was thinking. 

"You sure know your way around the female body, Krycek."

He grinned, relieved at her words. He pulled her closer and tugged on a lock of red hair while he explained. "Something I learned in my misspent youth. The wife of a visiting German gynecologist taught me everything I know. Mrs. Grafenberg. Helga was her first name, if I remember correctly. Said she was bored with her husband. Complained that he spent all his time yapping about vaginas and such, but never paid any attention to hers." 

She giggled then and swatted at his chest. And although he laughed with her, Krycek thought his heart might stop. Dana Scully was giggling. At something he said. She was warm and naked and in his arms and laughing at something he said. 

He wondered just when it was that his life started going right. Wondered how in the hell he had broken the curse that had hung over him since he the day he'd thrown his lot in with the smoking bastard and his band of thugs. 

His laughter trailed off and when her gaze fell to his lips, he felt the breath catch in his throat. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers, and she opened for him, her tongue seeking his. She pushed back against him until his penis was trapped between her legs. As her hips undulated against him, he felt the tip of his cock pushing into her warmth. 

"Dana." His voice was urgent. "I don't have anything. I don't have any protection." 

"Oh, Alex, do you really think it matters anymore?" She grabbed his arm and pulled him so he was flush against her back, and settled his hand against her breast. "All I know is that right now I feel alive." She lifted one thigh and angled back against him, allowing him full access to her. "I don't want that feeling to end, Alex. Not just yet." She reached between them and guided his length to the mouth of her vagina. "I know you want this too." 

He groaned, and pushed into her, feeling her warmth and wetness welcoming him. He held her hips while he pushed, till his entire length was snugly inside her. Carefully, he began to move, pulling back till just the head of his cock remained in her cunt. Then he pushed back, sheathing himself again. His lips fell to her neck and he nibbled and gnawed on the sensitive flesh there while he fell into a rhythm, rolling and snapping his hips, plunging into her and pulling back, fucking her slowing and deeply. 

"Yessss..." She hissed the word out, relaxing back against him, loving the feeling of his smooth body against her back. She shuddered as the length of his penis stroked her sensitive vagina; whimpered as his cock rubbed the tiny knot of nerve ending his clever fingers had found earlier. A flush of warmth began there, fluttering pleasurably. It spread slowly out in concentric circles. She felt light and heady and flushed. Every cell in her body turned on its axis, spinning faster and faster, flares of sensation shooting down her legs and up her spine, till her flesh sang with pleasure. It was there, just out of her reach, and she cried out, begging him to fuck her harder, slamming her hips back into his, driving him, making him match her rhythm. And then she was there, hurtling over the edge, every cell in her body reaching its own climax.

Alex had wanted to take his time. He knew that he might never have this chance again. So he wanted to draw it out, make it last. But Scully's course language was as unexpected as it was salacious. He bit his lip, tying not to come. But she was pounding against him and he was matching her thrust for thrust. He felt his climax building from the base of his spine, then felt her tighten around him, her vagina milking his cock and he came hard, spurting into her again and again, feeling as though the top of his head had blown off. He heard his own voice crying out hoarsely and wondered for one brief second how she had managed to strip his every defense. 

Alex Krycek sipped at his morning coffee and contemplated the singular pleasure of waking up with a woman in his arms, a woman he had spent the previous night making love to. In his past life, there were always plenty of bed partners to be had, both male and female. But they were all interchangeable-even that double-crossing bitch Marita. 

It was odd enough for Krycek to light for long anywhere, let alone spend an entire night with one person. It was only fitting that the woman in question was Dana Scully. It lent the whole situation a chimerical feeling that began to feel oddly reassuring. 

Krycek knew that making love with Scully again was far from a sure thing. He knew the price for last night was his silence on the matter this morning. He could live with that. He had studied Scully for a long time. Had a good idea of how she would feel this morning, what she would be thinking. His only hope was to take her by surprise. He chuckled to himself when he thought of how she had surprised him last night.

Turn about, he thought, was only fair. 

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She woke slowly, stretching luxuriously. She felt delicious, her body humming with satiation. She rolled over arching her back. She wondered at this sense of well-being, and then came fully awake with a start. 

Memory came back, and she moaned, burying her face in her hands. What had she done? What had she done?

Slept with Krycek. 

Alex Krycek. 

The man she loathed and despised for years. The man who had taken so much from her. She let him touch her. Let him? Encouraged him. Begged him was more like it. Oh, God. How could she face him? Face Skinner? Thank God Mulder wasn't here. He would know instantly that she had...what? Gotten lucky? 

She buried her face in the sleeping bag, smothering a nervous laugh.

This could never happen again. She would treat Krycek as always, and pretend it never happened. It was the only possible way to deal with it. 

She dressed quickly, wincing at the ache between her legs, blushing at the dampness she felt there. The smell of coffee floated to her as she emerged from the tent. She smoothed her face into an expressionless mask, and lifted her gaze to where Krycek stood. To her surprise, he was intently watching the house, and didn't turn to face her as he shared that there was coffee and granola for her. She stared at him stunned, then filled a cup and joined him. 

He turned to her finally and observed, "I think we'll leave camp as is. I'll go down first and make sure it's secure. You cover me from here." When he looked at her his statement as bland and disinterested. There was no signature smirk, no knowing leer, no snarky comment. With his green eyes and his aloof attitude he reminded her of a great dark cat and found herself both reassured and piqued by his distant behavior. 

She agreed with his plan and watched has he gathered up a rifle for her, and his own cache of weapons. 

And has she settled into a comfortable position with her rifle cradled in her arms, and watched him pick his way carefully down the embankment, sipped carefully at her mug of coffee, and wondered how it was that she thought she understood the man at all. 

End Part 4.

  
Archived: June 03, 2001 


End file.
